two bros, sitting in a traffic jam, 2 cars apart cause they're not gay
by pixelsoda
Summary: A three-hour traffic jam is bad enough by itself without that rude, nasty jerk in the next lane. [zukka]


**ok so i know it's been 3 years but,**

**this is actually smth i started (and wrote most of) back in 2016 and then... just abandoned asdfghjk. i found it last week and finished/edited it (with help from mija! thanks sis u saved my ass) so i'm sorry it's kinda rough in parts. that's bc it's old and i was stupid back then**

**loosely inspired by a real life traffic jam i was once in where we were dead in the road for a full 2.5 hours**

* * *

Bato groans from the passenger seat as the car once again lurches to a stop. "Can't you make the ride a bit smoother?" he grumbles.

Hakoda guffaws from beside him, one hand draped over the steering wheel. He casts an amused glance behind him at Sokka, and Sokka grins. "A navy man like you, carsick?" Hakoda teases.

Bato shoots him a dirty look.

Sokka snorts a laugh, then sighs and rests his head against the window. The glass is cool against his shaved skull. "Hey Katara," he says without looking her way, "wanna play tic tac toe?"

"We don't have any paper, Sokka," she replies wearily and distractedly, head buried in one of her horrible vampire romance novels.

The car shudders forward. "That book would be worth more as scrap paper," he offers helpfully, which earns him an icy glare and an annoyed swat to the shoulder.

After he realises Katara wasn't joking about not playing tic tac toe, he pulls out his phone to check for messages before remembering there's no signal, and hasn't been since they left that gas station an hour and two miles ago.

Yeah. Two miles in a whole hour.

He plays Pokémon Shuffle until he runs out of hearts, and then at least fifteen games of solitaire before he thinks he might pass out from boredom. This whole 'stuck in traffic' thing would be _so_ much more tolerable if he had wifi.

For an infinitely brief, scientifically nonexistent moment, Sokka wishes he'd brought a book.

Hakoda is trying to keep the ride smooth, they all know that, but that doesn't make the next jerking halt any easier on their stomachs. Bato rolls down the window and pukes.

_Holy shit._ Sokka pulls what he's probably sure is the most disgusted face he's ever pulled, because this is the first time he's ever had to watch someone puke, and he _sincerely_ hopes it's the last. "_Gross_."

Katara seems marginally less uncomfortable as she hands Bato a bottle of water, which he hurriedly opens and washes his mouth out with, spitting out of the window and earning an annoyed honk of the horn from the neighboring car as he catches the paintwork. Hakoda can't stop laughing, even as he rubs Bato's shoulder in sympathy.

Sokka slumps down against the window, undoing his seatbelt so it doesn't cut into his neck despite both Katara's and his father's insistence that he puts it back on, and closes his eyes.

He opens them some time later. A bleary check of his phone confirms he's managed to sleep for nearly twenty minutes undisturbed, which in this noise and difficult ride is quite the feat.

It takes his sleepy mind a moment to register the fact that there's no one sitting in the driver's seat.

Alertness returns to him immediately, and he jolts up, peering out of the window. Mild panic begins to trickle down his spine. "Katara, where's Dad?"

"Getting some water out of the trunk."

An incredibly normal and understandable activity, Sokka supposes - that is, for someone who's not supposed to be _driving a car_ in the _middle of the highway_. Sokka gapes at her in silence for a moment. Eventually she tears her gaze away from her book, and Sokka thinks she looks considerably less worried than she should be. "_Excuse me?"_ he squeaks, in what is definitely his deepest, manliest voice.

"What?" she asks. Her eyes are still glued to the page in her lap, and her voice has a distant, distracted quality to it, like she somehow doesn't care that there's no one driving the car.

He rolls down the window and sticks his head out to get a better look. As it turns out, the reason he slept so well was because for most of that time, _they weren't moving_.

Nearly half the cars around him have open doors and people walking between them, finally giving up hope on getting anywhere any time soon and deciding they might as well stretch their legs and get some fresh air.

Sokka almost can't believe it, and he says as much to Hakoda as he slips back into the seat in front of him armed with a two liter bottle of water.

Hakoda turns to him, swinging his legs out of the door and leaning around the headrest in order to face Sokka directly. He shrugs complacently. "Nothing we can do about it. There's been some sort of massive four car pile-up down the road, apparently. Cut off all but one of the lanes. They're trying to filter everyone through, but it's going to take a hell of a long time." His face twists into a wry smile. "I've called Mom and told her we're going to be late. We'll probably miss the ceremony, but we should at least be there for the first dance."

Sokka cringes at the thought of having to watch Gran Gran and Pakku slow dance.

Hakoda offers Sokka the water, which he takes with minimal enthusiasm. It tastes of old car, and it's too late now but Sokka is wondering just how long this water has been in the trunk - he crinkles his nose at the thought. _Great._ "So now it's just a matter of waiting." Hakoda heaves out a sigh. "Better get comfortable."

_Oh boy._ Sokka sighs. _Just how I love spending my Saturday afternoons._ He groans, letting his head fall back against the headrest.

* * *

It's over an hour before there's any sign of movement. A man in a luminous safety vest is walking briskly down the lanes, motioning people back into their cars. Sokka reluctantly abandons his sunbathing attempt, sliding clumsily off the roof and pulling his shirt back on. He doesn't bother tucking it back in, or putting on his tie. He has _plenty_ of time to get that just perfect, if the state of this traffic is anything to go by.

Bato is the last one in the car, trying hurriedly to finish his cigarette as the man in yellow gestures impatiently at him. When the man starts striding threateningly towards him he gives up and clambers back in, smoking the dregs out of the window.

"The kids are in the car," Hakoda chides, levelling his best _I'm disappointed in you but I still love you_ expression at his husband. Sokka's gotta admit, he's a real master at that one.

Bato shrugs apologetically and drops the butt onto the tarmac. "Sorry."

The four of them wait wearily for nearly ten minutes before Hakoda spots a car in the far distance. "It's moving," he murmurs almost to himself, voice quiet with disbelief. His voice rises in pitch and volume as he repeats euphorically, "It's moving!"

Raucous cheers erupt from the occupants of the car, and many a high-five is exchanged before Hakoda has to put both hands back on the wheel for the first time in an hour and a half.

Not that their journey is particularly _fast,_ per se. The traffic is still stop-starting at an excruciating pace, but hey, at least they're actually going somewhere now.

Katara takes a break after a particularly heartbreaking chapter to tearfully play a few rounds of rock-paper-scissors with Sokka and Bato, and then Bato tries to cheer her up by turning the radio on, except it doesn't really work because apparently every station has dedicated this afternoon to "classic love songs". Hakoda puts on an old cassette instead, completely ignoring Sokka's _totally valid_ grumblings about being old-fashioned and needing a car from the current millenium that could at the very, very least play a CD.

Sokka isn't entirely sure when they come to the dead stop, but it's after his phone has run out of battery, Katara has started a second book (_how many is she carrying?_ he thinks in impressed disbelief) and Bato has been taking a 'short nap' for a considerable length of time.

"_Ugh_," he grumbles, letting his head fall grouchily back against the headrest (he should really stop doing that now, because he can swear a bruise is forming) and barely resists the urge to kick his legs like an impatient toddler. "You've _got_ to be kidding me." He turns his head to the side to sullenly glare at the still-moving traffic in the next lane, letting the bitter resentment at their progress fuel him and stop him taking another neck-breaking nap against the window.

But soon enough that lane also comes to a creaking standstill, and Sokka is left staring wearily at the car that's pulled to a stop beside him, just two feet away. It's big, and a pretty sleek dark red color, and surprisingly beat up considering how fancy it looks.

And that's pretty much all Sokka has to say on the matter. He's never been particularly into cars.

There's a girl in the middle row of seats talking animatedly on her phone, and Sokka wonders how anyone can have that much energy in a traffic jam this awful. But in the backseat is a guy - looks around Sokka's age - and the tired frustration on his face is a clear mirror of Sokka's own. He watches absently as the guy breathes condensation onto the window and draws concentric circles into it. They're kinda crooked, now that Sokka is looking at them. More like ovals, really. And not very concentric either.

The guy peers through the centre circle. Right at him.

Sokka nearly jumps. He hadn't been expecting the eye contact. And this guy's gaze is so _intense -_ no doubt made even more so by that _fuck that's huge_ scar on his face, which had previously been hidden by his profile.

Sokka doesn't know what it is about him, but he can feel his pulse quicken.

He belatedly realises he's been staring, so he breaks into a lopsided grin (probably not one of his smoothest, if he's being totally honest with himself), trying to lessen the tension. But instead of relaxing, the other guy only seems to recoil.

Sokka's grin drops a little. Wow, if this guy doesn't want to talk to him, he could have just pretended not to notice or something. No need to be so rude about it

The annoyance at the traffic bubbles up again, and Sokka taps irritably on his window, trying to attract the guy's attention. He's gonna give this jerk a piece of his mind. No one snubs Sokka and gets away with it.

* * *

Well, he's gotta give this asshole at least a _shred_ of respect. He's been hammering on his window for nearly ten minutes now and he _still_ hasn't looked up. Maybe he just can't hear Sokka over the traffic and through two layers of glass. Who knows.

But Sokka's decided on this now. He's already ten minutes deep into this mission - he can't just _stop_. He has _some_ pride.

"Hey, _jerkass!_"

He might just be imagining it, but Sokka _swears_ he saw the guy twitch.

"Sokka," Katara reprimands next to him, echoed by the adults in the front seats, swatting him on the shoulder in an attempt to make her brother behave like a respectable human being. _Well,_ Sokka decides stubbornly, _it won't work._ "Just give up, for goodness sake."

"I'm just trying to be nice!" he hollers at the neighboring car, ignoring Katara entirely. She clearly doesn't understand the gravity of this situation. "You're never gonna make any friends with that attitude!"

The guy - who's making that nasty face again, and Sokka has decided he's earned the name Jerkface - snaps. He turns fully towards Sokka and yells something that, though very muffled and barely audible, Sokka can just make out as, "Stop shouting at me! What's _wrong_ with you?"

Sokka is affronted at the suggestion that _he_ is the problem here. Is he serious? The _nerve_ of this guy! He has _zero_ right to feel that his anger with Sokka's _admirable determination_ is in any way justified, when just ten minutes ago _he_ made the first slight. _He's_ the rude jerk here. Obviously.

"_Me?_" Sokka screeches indignantly, and raises his volume to make sure Jerkface can hear every word he's saying. "What's wrong with _you?_ I'm just trying to be friendly, maybe stir up a little camaraderie in this hellhole of traffic and you make this face like I just spat in your coffee!"

Jerkface pulls another stupid, infuriating expression, like _he's_ the one who's been offended here. "I didn't make any face!" he shouts, voice rasping with anger. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"You _so_ did!" Sokka retorts, anger and incredulity rising as Jerkface point-blank refuses to acknowledge his offence. "You made this face, like -" and he mimics to the best of his ability the expression of disgust Jerkface gave him, then points to him accusingly. Because it was really mean, and Jerkface deserves to have it thrown back in his face.

And, okay, Sokka wasn't expecting the guy to look so _taken aback_.

"I wasn't making faces at you," Jerkface repeats - at least that's what Sokka thinks he says. It's a lot quieter. Sokka has to rely on lip-reading to understand it. Don't get him wrong - Jerkface still looks very much like he wants to punch Sokka in the face, but at least now he looks calm enough that it wouldn't break Sokka's jaw. Probably.

Suddenly the car jerks forward, and Jerkface is wiped from his vision as Sokka's lane begins to move. _Hey, wait_, Sokka feels like saying, because he isn't done yet, this conversation isn't over - except apparently it is, because even peering as far he can out of the back window he can only barely see the wingmirror of Jerkface's car shrinking into the distance.

Sokka spends the next ten minutes thinking about it. Not _brooding_, thanks very much for that, Dad. Just _thinking_. Intensely.

What? Is he supposed to just brush something like that off? It's not like he gets into arguments with strangers all the time. This is a memorable occasion.

No, Katara, he definitely does not _miss_ him.

They're twenty-three minutes away from Jerkface now, not that Sokka's been counting, and he can't help but feel resigned to never finishing the argument. Well, it's not like _that's_ never happened before. People are always walking out on him mid-argument. _Why?_ he wonders, attention diverted momentarily. _Am I that easy to ignore?_

"Hey, look, it's the crash," Hakoda remarks, leaning out of his window and pointing up ahead, and _wow_ that is the worst car crash Sokka's ever seen. Four car pile-up indeed. Plus two police cars, three ambulances and a towtruck makes a total of ten vehicles. No wonder the traffic is so bad.

"Oh my god," Katara says, leaning right into Sokka's personal space to get a good look. "Is everyone okay?"

"I don't know," Hakoda replies, sounding concerned. "It'll be a damn good stroke of luck if they are."

From what little Sokka can see, it looks like they've managed to clear a second lane, but it doesn't seem to be having any effect on the traffic flow. In fact, everything seems to be slowing down.

Except for Jerkface's lane, which is speeding up. _Why am I not surprised,_ Sokka thinks grumpily. He tries to squash the rush of excitement. _No_, he tells himself firmly. _Bad Sokka._

Despite his own brain screaming at him not to, he can't help but twist around to stare behind them, checking if Jerkface is close yet. They're a long way apart now, but if his lane keeps rolling at the rate it currently is, then -

Sokka watches the red seven-seater slide up beside him, and obviously some higher power is blessing him (or cursing him?) today, because the traffic lurches to a stop right as Sokka makes eye contact with Jerkface. Like the entire traffic jam can feel the same quaking power Sokka can in their eye contact.

"You again!" Sokka shouts half-heartedly, even though he knows Jerkface probably won't hear him through the glass. Apparently he understands anyway, because his face crumples in that angry way Sokka is becoming very familiar with.

"Sokka," Hakoda warns drowsily, though there's an edge to his voice, "if you start shouting again, I swear to god that four-car pile-up is going to be seeing a fifth car."

Sokka has the good grace to feel sheepish. "Sorry."

He looks back out of the window, and Zuko is staring steadfastly at his lap, and apparently hasn't made any attempt to talk. Neither does Sokka. It's an odd kind of stalemate.

Sokka sits in silence for a few minutes, concentrating on not glancing at Jerkface every five seconds. He doesn't really succeed. It's maybe the fourth or fifth time he looks up that he meets Jerkface staring back at him. It reminds him of their first awkward eye contact. Sokka doesn't smile this time, but Jerkface doesn't make any nasty expressions, so he begrudgingly admits they've probably improved overall.

They not even really communicating, and they're in two distinctly separate vehicles, but Sokka can still feel Jerkface's presence like it's burning into him.

"What's taking so long? Aren't we supposed to be speeding up?" he asks no one in particular, feeling oddly restless and needing to shake off that weird burning feeling.

"Another car crashed into the pile-up," Bato deadpans, sounding like it's definitely the stupidest thing he's ever heard of anyone doing ever.

Sokka has to agree. "You're kidding."

Bato sighs deeply. "I wish." He elbows Hakoda in the ribs. "Are you sure you don't have any psychic abilities?" And Sokka remembers the idle warning of just a few minutes ago. Huh. Well, Hakoda is the smartest person Sokka knows - apart from himself, of course - so if anyone would be able to magically predict a car crash, it would be his dad.

Sokka slumps into his seat, dropping his head back onto the headrest with a _thmp_. Yep. Definitely bruised. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees movement from the red car, and turns to watch. The girl is twisted around in her seat, phone muffled against her chest, talking to Jerkface. He drags a hand across his face at whatever she's saying, rolls his eyes heavily and Sokka can see him mouth _Kill me_.

By chance, Jerkface looks out of his window, and like an echo of an hour ago Sokka sees his own frustration in his expression.

_I guess he just found out about the fifth car._

Jerkface's window is a little fogged up - maybe they have the heating on high - and Sokka can just about see the echoes of the circles Jerkface drew earlier in the mist.

An idea strikes him. Sokka considers for a moment before deciding _fuck it, I'm bored and he may be a jerk but he's also kind of hot._ He knocks on his window until Jerkface looks up, attention dragged away from the sorry state of the traffic. Sokka breathes onto the glass and writes his name in the condensation, careful to spell it backwards.

Jerkface looks confused for a moment, and Sokka tries to explain by pointing at his window and then jerking his thumb back towards his chest. Realisation dawns on the other guy's face, but it's quickly replaced by what looks like a mixture of annoyance and amusement, and Sokka knits his brow in trepidation. Jerkface points at Sokka's window and draws an S in the air, and upon inspection Sokka realises that despite his best attempt the S is still written backwards.

Jerkface is unfazed by Sokka's embarrassed glare, and writes (what Sokka assumes is) his own name in the window in sharp, disjointed handwriting.

_Zuko_.

Sokka gives a brief wave, trying not to look too enthusiastic, and Jerkface - Zuko (_what kind of name is that, anyway,_ Sokka inwardly gripes) - slowly raises a hand in return, looking a lot like he's never waved at someone before in his life.

As hard as Sokka tries to cling to his anger, he can't help but admit it's strangely endearing.

Sokka's car suddenly jerks forward three feet, and he hits his head against the window. "Ow, _fuck_," he hisses, and when he glances back out of the window Zuko is leaning forward in wide-eyed shock.

The corners of Sokka's mouth twist up despite the sharp throb in his skull and the weary, "Language," from Hakoda, because Zuko honestly looks far too concerned considering they've spent the majority of their acquaintance shouting furiously at each other. Sokka bemusedly signals he's okay and relief washes over Zuko's face (_is he always this easy to read?_) and something in Sokka's chest is suddenly inexplicably warm and fluffy and god fucking _damn_ his sappy feelings, this is _so_ not happening right now. Come on, heart, you _just met_ this guy, and he's a _total jerk_.

Katara never has the right to call Sokka heartless ever, ever again.

At least they didn't move too far forward. Their windows aren't perfectly aligned anymore but Sokka can still see Zuko, and wow from this angle he can also see the book in Zuko's hands. Sokka is overcome with a sudden desire to know everything about this guy, even if just so he can use it to his advantage in any future argument, and he's going to start by finding out which book he's reading. Hey, maybe he's even read it himself. Or better - _Katara's_ read it. Definitely future blackmail material.

Sokka tries to point to it, but only succeeds in making Zuko increasingly perplexed with every jab of his finger. He switches tactic, and mimes opening a book, then pointing again meaningfully towards Zuko.

Zuko is now squinting in complete and utter bafflement.

Jesus, has this guy never played charades? Sokka rolls his eyes dramatically, just to make sure Zuko gets the point, because he really is unbelievable - that last miming thing was _totally_ comprehensible, Sokka has no idea why Zuko still doesn't get it - and leans over to grab Katara's book out of her hands.

"Sokka!" Katara protests angrily, shoving his shoulder and demanding her book back.

Sokka pushes the book up against the window - ignoring Katara's efforts to pry it out of his hands - and points at it, then at Zuko, nodding his head meaningfully towards him.

He sees Zuko silently murmur, _Oh_, and gesture to the book in his lap, and Sokka nods with relief. Zuko almost - just maybe, possibly, a tiny little bit - smiles.

And maybe - just _maybe_, because this isn't something one generally goes around thinking about one's enemies - it's a pretty goddamn amazing smile.

Katara finally manages to snatch her book back, and although he's not looking he's pretty sure she's shooting him a filthy look. "What is your problem?" she grouches, mostly to herself, shaking her head and rolling her eyes heavenward in a silent plea for a brother less weird and infuriating.

Zuko gives his own book a dubious glance, and when he looks back up at Sokka his face is pinched in reluctant embarrassment.

Of course, this only fuels Sokka's curiosity.

An entire minute of various persuasive tactics later - including Sokka's infamous 'wounded puppy' expression - Zuko casts the book one final hesitant glance, then slowly and awkwardly raises it to the window cover-out, casting furtive glances at the girl in the seat in front of him as if to make sure she isn't looking.

When Sokka sees the title, he understands.

He doesn't try as hard as he could have to quash the smirk curling his lip, because he's still a little annoyed, and righteous smirking always feels good. Even if, in Sokka's secret reality that he would never admit to having, he actually doesn't want to give this guy the impression that he is in any way dissing his reading choices. He knows the feeling of having his taste in reading material dissed very, very well, and it's not a feeling that fosters any amount of friendship. Even if it has honestly got to be the cheesiest romance novel Sokka has ever read.

(Not that he would _ever_ admit to having read it. To anyone. Ever.)

So, in the interests of potential friendship, Sokka softens the smirk with an enthusiastic thumbs-up, pointing to himself in a way that he hopes conveys _I've read that too and_ _even though_ _I'm gonna make fun of you for it until the next century it's actually one of my favourites and please can we talk about it together because I really have a lot to say about it and no one to say it to_.

Unsurprisingly, he's unsuccessful. Apparently the thumbs-up paired with the smirk appeared vaguely sarcastic, and Zuko looks annoyed again. Sokka watches as he rummages around on the seat beside him and then appears to... do... something... on his lap.

Sokka doesn't have to wait long to discover Zuko was drawing in a notebook. He holds it angrily against the window.

For a moment, Sokka is dumbstruck.

Zuko has drawn a heart. With what looks like... an arrow through it. And he's gesturing at himself. And at _Sokka_.

Sokka knows it must be a misunderstanding. There is _no way_ Zuko means what it seems like he means, especially not when his face is all scrunched up in rage. It just doesn't match up.

That doesn't stop the blush creeping up Sokka's neck.

He feels it burning his cheeks, and Zuko blinks, anger suddenly exchanged for confusion as he sees the blush Sokka is trying so hard to fight. Sokka buries his face in one hand with secondhand (and firsthand) embarrassment as Zuko withdraws the notepad from the window and inspects it for any possible blush-causing parts, as if it wasn't _completely and totally obvious_.

What other message could it even convey?

Zuko _still_ can't figure it out, and the girl is turning around again, and when she sees the notebook she bursts into laughter.

She looks out of the window, takes one look at Sokka's pink face and laughs even harder. She's practically _crying_ with laughter. Sokka actually feels insulted. Zuko looks insulted, too. But also embarrassed. Probably more embarrassed than insulted, really.

Well, looks like he finally figured out the issue here.

Zuko is now trying to convey in every hand signal possible _That's not what I meant_, frantically shaking his head at Sokka, even as the girl is surreptitiously nodding, and actually _winks_ at Sokka, giving him a covert thumbs-up. Actually, scratch that - not covert enough, because Zuko saw, and now he's shouting something at her, and she's laughing again, and Zuko is _bright red_.

He's scribbling frantically in the notebook again, and when it lifts it up this time the original heart has been furiously crossed out, and underneath it two separate drawings indicate a heart (bleeding?) and - oh, this time it looks like a knife.

Heart... knife?

The girl takes the notebook, shaking her head to herself as she turns the page and takes her turn to draw something to embarrass Sokka. But when she holds it up, it's actually writing. If he squints _just_ right, he can make out the message: _YOU HURT HIS POOR FEELINGS._ Judging from her smirk, it's sarcastic. But before Sokka can react, the page turns. _HE SHOULD HAVE JUST WRITTEN IT DOWN._ She turns the page again. _HE'S AN IDIOT._

Zuko wrests the notebook out of her hand and flips through the messages, and somehow turns an even _deeper_ shade of red, and Sokka's half convinced this new color is so red it can't be properly perceived without a fourth cone.

Then Zuko's face (and its accompanying blush) lurches towards him as the car rolls forward - time for Panic Mode. But soon enough the car halts again, and Sokka breathes a quiet, subtle sigh of relief.

Well, it would have been subtle if his breath hadn't fogged up the window.

(He would be more embarrassed if Zuko's window wasn't also fogged up.)

Sokka takes advantage of the condensation to draw a smiley face to mimic his own. Zuko draws one too, except his is angry, displayed clearly by the heavy frown and deeply slanted eyebrows.

Sokka signals his confusion, and Zuko gestures to the traffic, the car, Sokka, and himself.

Inexplicably, Sokka understands.

But the warm chest-flutter is short-lived, quickly replaced by an icy chest-flutter of panic as Sokka's lane starts to move again. They're almost at the crash site - traffic will probably improve from here on out. This is probably their last chance for communication. Zuko's lane is moving too, but not nearly as fast, and all too soon he's lagging behind, out of view, and Sokka is left feeling dejected and oddly empty.

They pass the crash site, to the boisterous cheers of the other occupants of the car, and all Sokka wants to do is reverse until he finds Zuko again.

"Hey," Katara murmurs softly, a hand on Sokka's arm and an encouraging smile on her face, "if you're destined to meet again, you will."

Under ordinary circumstances, Sokka would jump at the chance to call bullshit like that, but these aren't ordinary circumstances, and Sokka wants to wallow a little bit. It's not like he's got anything else to do, stuck in this stupid car in the middle of this stupid traffic jam on the way to this stupid wedding. So he takes the comfort gratefully, and lets Katara pull his head down onto her shoulder.

It's pretty uncomfortable. Now that they're finally moving again - _properly_ moving, a whole forty miles per hour - Sokka is feeling very, very jostled by the speedy ride. But Katara isn't complaining about his supposedly bony head this time, so Sokka is content to lie against her and try to nap away his sadness.

The car swerves harshly to the left, and Hakoda is shouting "_Fuck_" and a small part of Sokka's brain logs the fact that that's got to be the first time Sokka's ever heard him swear, but the rest of his brain is blank with blind panic

Someone is screaming - and the piercing squeal of friction-burnt tyres isn't quite loud enough to drown out the sound of metal impacting metal -

* * *

"Sokka," a voice is saying loudly, and something spiky is pressing into his back, and there's a warm pressure against his arms.

"Sokka, open your eyes," it's saying, even though Sokka's head is _killing_ him and the last thing he wants right now is to get his eyes burned out of his skull by the sun. "Please, Sokka, look at me."

Reluctantly, he blinks the - dirt? - out of his eyes, and finds himself staring up into the worry-creased face of his father, who has an unfamiliar bruise on his face. "Dad?" _God_, this throat burns.

"Oh thank god," Hakoda breathes, repeating it over and over to himself silently, and he looks like he's about three seconds away from passing out in relief. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Can you sit up?" But he's already helping Sokka upright, and the world is spinning like that one time he went to Jet's house and tried to out-drink him, and Sokka focuses on the feeling of his father's arms holding him tightly, and tries not to throw up.

"What - the hell happened," he chokes out between stuttering breaths. He feels like all the air has been knocked from his lungs.

"Sokka!" Katara is yelling from the distance, and then she's in his vision too, and he's enveloped in an armful of Katara before he even has a chance to reply. "I'm so glad you're okay. You are okay, aren't you? Doctor!" she shouts suddenly, and _Christ_ can't she keep the volume down? "He's awake!"

Awareness slowly seeps back to him as his surroundings belatedly fade into his consciousness. He's on the ground. They're in the middle of the road. And they're surrounded by emergency vehicles.

"You absolute _fuckwad!_" pierces the background rumble of goings-on, and it's a voice Sokka very faintly recognises, like he heard it in a dream. "I swear on your grave I'm gonna punch your fucking _teeth_ out!"

"Calm down," multiple voices are saying now in varying degrees of firmness. Sokka twists in his father's grip, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder, _I'm okay now, you can let me go, your grip is actually sort of hurting_, and can't help the jolt of shock that runs through him when he catches sight of the scene playing in front of him.

"_Don't tell me to calm down!_"

Being forcefully restrained by two police officers, looking like he's about to _murder_ the guy four feet away from him, is _Zuko_.

"Calm down or we'll be forced to arrest you," one of the officers is saying - oh my _god_ \- and then an older man pushes gently in with a serene smile.

"There will be no need for that, officers," he says gently, taking Zuko by the arm and easing him out of the police officers' grip. Zuko reluctantly lets himself be pulled away, but not once does he break eye contact with the man standing by the police car.

A hushed conversation takes place near their car, and judging by their hand gestures Sokka would guess the older man is trying to persuade Zuko that getting arrested would _not_ be worth punching that man in the face. It would seem Zuko isn't convinced.

It belatedly occurs to Sokka to wonder why they're here. And why _he's_ here. And what the _fuck_ just happened.

They wander over to where Sokka is still sitting on the tarmac. "Are you okay?" the old man asks him, and Zuko is staring at him like he's trying to give him an x-ray with his eyes to check for any damage.

"Yeah, fine, just a little car crash, nothing serious," Sokka jokes, trying to lighten the mood - he really doesn't want Zuko to get arrested - and shakily, with help from Hakoda (_where did Katara go?_), manages to stand up.

The old man smiles benignly at him. "That's good to hear." He pulls out a thermos and a paper cup from the bag slung over his shoulder, and pours something that smells hot and sweet. "Here," he offers, handing Sokka the cup. "Have some tea."

Well, alright then. Why not. "Thanks," he says, accepting the proffered drink, and _holy shit_, this is the best tea Sokka's ever tasted.

He swallows. "_Wow_."

The old man's smile widens. "I'm glad you like it. It's chamomile. It helps calm the nerves." He holds out a hand. "My name is Iroh."

Sokka shakes his hand, and Iroh's grip is surprisingly firm. "Sokka."

"This is my niece-"

"Azula," the girl from the car cuts in - appearing out of absolutely _nowhere_ \- and reaches for Sokka's hand to shake even before he's finished extending it, and _wow_ that's got to be the strongest handshake Sokka's ever experienced. She looks him up and down critically. "Hm," she hums thoughtfully. "Not bad. You're better-looking when you're not behind two panes of glass."

Sokka isn't sure what to make of that. He rubs at his neck awkwardly. "Uh, thanks?"

Azula's smirk is reptilian. She turns to Zuko and murmurs something that sounds an awful lot like "_nice score_". Zuko immediately flushes beet red in a mixture of what looks like anger and embarrassment.

_Oh god_, Sokka cringes internally, and he feels his own face flood with color. But it appears Sokka was the only one who heard, because Iroh continues as if he'd never been interrupted in the first place. "And this is my nephew, Zuko," he introduces.

Zuko nods stiffly at him, face still red, and he isn't quite making eye contact. Sokka nods back, and tries for a disarming smile. It probably won't be as effective as usual, considering his dishevelled and slightly woozy state, but maybe it would help Zuko loosen up just a little. He seems pretty high-strung.

Weirdly, it does the opposite. Zuko gets even _more_ tense, curling his arms tighter around his chest, and - is his face getting _redder?_

"Well, they managed to get the car out of the ditch, but - Sokka!" Bato shrieks, barrelling towards him and before Sokka can think too much on Zuko's response he's being crushed in his step-father's bear hug. "You're conscious!"

"Yeah, but not for much longer if you don't let up," Sokka wheezes.

"Oh god, sorry," Bato hurriedly apologises, letting go and making do with holding Sokka's shoulders and smoothing his hair back down where it must've gotten roughed up by the tarmac.

"How's the car?" Hakoda asks, nodding vaguely in the direction of the ditch.

Bato sighs. "Totalled. One of the doors came off."

Hakoda winces. "Well," he sighs in resignation, "Sokka's been bugging me to buy a new car for years. I guess this is fate's way of agreeing."

There's a cluster of tired laughter.

One of the paramedics approaches them, Katara in tow. "Excuse me, may I check you over in the ambulance?" She gestures for Sokka to follow, and he shrugs, and sits down where she tells him to, and tries to be patient as she shines a light in his eye and pokes at a painful bump on his scalp. Katara watches him like a hawk throughout the entire procedure, and he has to keep mouthing _I'm fine_ at her to stop her interfering.

"So? What's my diagnosis, doc?"

"That's a pretty bad hit to the head, but you don't have a concussion. Here's some ice to help with the swelling. You should be fine in a day or two."

And that's it. They wander back to the cluster of people surrounding Sokka's former resting place, and Katara fills him in on what he missed while he was unconscious. Everyone seems to be more or less fine, miraculously; the car got rear-ended, so most of the damage was done to the trunk, and besides general scrapes and bruises the worst injury among the four of them is a gash on Katara's back from where the trunk impacted into her seat and busted the metal. Katara insists she's fine, the paramedics stitched it up and she doesn't even have to go to the hospital, but Sokka can't help but worry anyway.

"You were very lucky," the police officer tells them as they sit on the shoulder and drink Iroh's tea. "A crash at such high speeds could easily have been fatal."

"Yes, it's a magnificent stroke of luck," Iroh agrees, sipping at his tea and sighing contentedly.

"I thought you might want to know," she says to Hakoda, "we just breath-tested the other driver. He blew over the alcohol limit, so we're taking him down to the station. Luckily he's insured, so his insurance should cover all your damages."

Hakoda nods. "Thank you, officer."

She nods in response. "We'd be happy to give you a ride to your destination if you need one."

"Ah-" Hakoda starts, glancing at Iroh, who nods reassuringly. "That - won't be necessary, but thanks. Iroh has kindly offered to give us all a lift, since we're going in the same direction."

The officer smiles at Iroh. "Alright. Then if everyone is okay, we'll be going now."

"Thanks for all your help."

Sokka watches his father bid the officers goodbye, and then get up to talk to the towtruck driver, presumably about what they're going to do with the car. Now that it's out of the ditch, Sokka can see the full extent of the damage - and a chill prickles his spine at the thought that they were in that car. It really is a wonder they all survived.

"Are you alright?"

Sokka turns to find Zuko has shuffled up next to him, giving him the same intensely concerned expression as earlier.

He grins. "A-ok," he says as cheerfully as possible, twinning the words with the matching hand signal.

The edge of Zuko's mouth quirks up in what is honest to god the absolute cutest goddamn smile Sokka has ever been blessed enough to witness. "Good," he says shortly, and proceeds to take a deep swig of tea.

They sit in companionable silence for a moment before Sokka remarks, "It was really nice of your uncle to offer us a lift. He didn't have to do that."

Zuko shrugs. "I guess. But that's just the way he is."

"Why -" Sokka stops himself asking _why are you here_, instead opting for: "Were you involved in the crash?"

"Oh, no." Zuko shakes his head. "But we weren't far behind you when you crashed, and when Uncle saw what happened he just - pulled over. And called 911." He shrugs at Sokka's eyebrow raise. _That's just the way he is_.

Zuko clears his throat, and suddenly finds great interest in his empty paper cup. "When he saw your car had flipped over and gone into the ditch - he was really worried." Zuko stares into the cup for a thoughtful moment before mumbling, "So was I."

Sokka can't suppress the elated grin. "You were, huh?" he teases, elbowing Zuko in the side.

Zuko glares at him. "Anyone would have been."

"Uh-huh." Sokka's face feels like it's going to split in two.

"Shut up," Zuko snaps irritably, voice rasping with something indeterminable, and Sokka decides he likes the sound.

Despite himself, Sokka laughs. "I didn't say anything."

"Alright," Hakoda announces as he ambles back towards the group. "Now that's sorted, we can finally get going. We're definitely going to be fashionably late - but better late than never, I suppose."

"Finally!" Katara exclaims, jumping to her feet and stretching out her arms. She jerks a little, wincing. "Ow."

"Be careful not to pull your stitches," Hakoda says, his hand ghosting over a slice in the fabric of Katara's dress, the slit of visible skin bandaged in white. The touch is tentative, and Sokka can tell he's worried, despite the composure in his voice and posture.

Iroh stands and brushes the tarmac dust off his clothes. "Let's be going, then. It might be a bit squished," he says apologetically, like it's a _problem_ that he's going out of his way to help a bunch of strangers.

"There's no way it could possibly be as squished as our car," Sokka complains cheerfully, sauntering towards the large seven-seater.

"If no one else wants shotgun I suppose I can manage," Azula declares loftily, and without waiting for a response strides up to the passenger seat door and climbs in.

There's a round of slightly awkward glances exchanged by the remaining group, and Sokka decides to grab the opportunity by its ass cheeks.

"I guess I don't mind sitting in the back with Zuko, if you guys want to sit together," he mumbles, and maybe he'd intended it to sound more cool and confident than awkward and shy, but what the hell?

Hakoda blinks in mild surprise, then shrugs. "Okay. If that's alright with everyone?"

There's universal agreement, and Sokka internally squeals with delight even as Zuko shoots him very suspicious looks as they all clamber into the car.

Sokka is ninety-nine percent sure there's a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, but in this moment he honest to god couldn't care less.

"Does everyone have their seatbelts on?" Iroh asks as he turns the key in the ignition, and at the synchronised "Yes" the car rolls forward, and then they're on the highway, and Iroh's window is down, and Azula's phone is once again glued to her ear as she chats with her mysterious phone buddy in the friendliest tone Sokka has heard from her yet.

"Who's she talking to?" Sokka finds himself asking in a low tone, and only belatedly realises it's probably none of his business.

Zuko doesn't seem to realise this at all. "Mai," he answers in an equally quiet voice. At Sokka's quizzical look, he expands, "her friend."

"Oh," Sokka replies. "What's she like?"

Zuko furrows his brow in thought. "She's... nice," he says, though his tone of voice isn't really very convincing. He catches the disbelieving look on Sokka's face and quickly backtracks. "No, really, she is," he insists. "She's just hard to get to know."

Sokka shrugs, casting Azula a final thoughtful expression as her laughter, warm and genuine, rings through the car, chiming like a bell. "She sounds interesting."

"Yeah," Zuko agrees with a vague nod as he rummages around in the satchel at his feet. "She is." After a few seconds of searching he pulls out the book he was reading earlier.

Sokka waggles his eyebrows. It earns him an annoyed shove to the shoulder and a waspish "Shut up."

Zuko opens the book anyway, and as hard as Sokka tries to just stare out of the window, words and phrases keep catching his eye, and before long he's fully engrossed, unabashedly reading the book over Zuko's shoulder.

That's how he discovers that Zuko has an _unreal_ reading speed.

"Dude, slow down," Sokka has to murmur several times, until eventually Zuko huffs out a sigh and lets Sokka turn the pages instead. Like they're in some terrible rom-com.

They're three chapters in when Sokka realises his head is on Zuko's shoulder.

He isn't sure if Zuko's noticed - the guy is pretty hilariously oblivious - but he's sure that if he moves, the jig will definitely be up. So he stays as still as possible - and, okay, maybe he readjusts just _slightly_, and he is definitely not _nuzzling_ \- and breathes as deeply as he can without appearing suspicious.

Because, wow, Zuko smells really good. In a really great way.

Sokka decides in that moment that while yelling across vehicles is all well and good, there's nothing quite like direct physical sensation.

... Okay, there is _no way_ Zuko isn't noticing this. So, obviously, just to check, Sokka _readjusts_ again. Overtly. With an added chin-to-collarbone bump just for good measure.

Sokka nearly flinches as his cheek vibrates. Zuko is clearling his throat. Deeply. And -

Is that his _pulse_ Sokka can feel?

Sokka breathes onto Zuko's skin, and the rhythm _flutters_.

"_With a_ _taste of your lips,_ _I'm on a ride-_"

Sokka actually does flinch this time, and so does Zuko. He pats his pockets frantically and Sokka realises with a sharp laugh that Zuko has Britney Spears as his ringtone.

"-_You're toxic I'm slippin' under, with a taste of a poison paradise-_"

"Azula!" Zuko yells over her cackling laughter. "Where did you put my phone?"

"-_I'm addicted to you, don't you know that you're toxic-_"

"You have-" Sokka can barely speak over the _hysterical_ laughter pouring out of his throat. "You have _Britney Spears_-"

"Shut up, Azula did it," Zuko explains with frustrated embarrassment.

"-_And I love what you do, don't you know that you're toxic-_"

"Is this it?" Katara asks, reaching round to offer Zuko a scratched up Samsung.

"Yes, thank you," Zuko responds with breathless relief, taking the phone and quickly answering the call before anyone's eardrums burst.

"Ty Lee?" he says immediately. "Why are you calling me?"

In the relative quiet, Sokka can just about hear someone on the other end of the line exclaim loudly, "_Rude!_"

Zuko rolls his eyes.

Well, if Zuko doesn't want to talk to her, Sokka will.

"No, wait-" Zuko is saying frantically, even as Sokka holds the phone out of his reach, successfully batting Zuko's arms away. "Sokka-!"

"Heeeey," Sokka croons into the phone. "How's it going?"

There's a short pause before girlish giggles erupt in his ear. "_And who would this be?_" Ty Lee asks, a smile in her voice.

"The name's Sokka," he drawls, grinning like an absolute terror at Zuko, who's still grappling with him for the phone. Luckily for Sokka, his arms are just _slightly_ longer. Benefits of lankiness. "Old friend of Zuko's. Glad to make your acquaintance."

"Oh for-" Zuko inhales deeply through his nose and tries not to growl in irritation as he makes another grab for the phone.

"_You sound pretty handsome_," Ty Lee chuckles. "_Does Zuko have a cute guy friend I don't know about?_"

"Well," Sokka starts, letting his ego pump his voice full of every ounce of testosterone he can summon. He spares Zuko a smug glance. "He does now."

A deep guttural sound of annoyance rumbles out of Zuko's throat as he drops his head back against the headrest, crossing his arms, slouching into his seat and seemingly giving up on getting his phone back anytime soon. "Fine," he growls, his face stubbornly turned away. "Whatever. I don't care."

His words may be cutting, his voice may be sharp, but Sokka can see the upturn of his mouth and the crinkle at the corner of his eye. _Man, this guy is a total open book_, Sokka muses in faint awe. Zuko is visibly fighting to keep the angry scowl on his face. A tingling warmth blooms in Sokka's stomach at the sight.

Finally Zuko glances at him, and - oh dear. Their eyes lock. The faux fury evaporates, and for a few seconds Sokka wonders why - but then (and holy _shit_) the most _amazing_ thing happens.

Zuko _blushes_.

Sokka finds himself absolutely unable to tear his eyes away. He watches in fascination as the reddish tinge grows and deepens, spreading past his cheeks, tinting his nose and snaking down his neck, beneath the collar of his shirt, and Sokka wonders just where that flush finishes -

_Oh_ boy.

With a far greater amount of effort than Sokka will ever admit to, he manages to tear his gaze away. That seems to break the tension. Zuko looks away, clearing his throat and forcefully staring out of his window, and the chipper, tinny voice in Sokka's ear quickly filters back in. Jesus, he'd forgotten he was even on the phone.

"-a_nd then Zuko ran in to save her, except he tripped on the edge of the fountain and they both fell right in!_" The finale of the story Sokka has apparently mostly missed (although now is belatedly interested in, considering how it's concluding) is punctuated by a cluster of musical giggles. Apparently, Ty Lee hasn't noticed the lapse in conversation.

Sokka remembers himself, and laughs into the phone. "What a wild story," he says, injecting his voice with enthusiasm and hoping it doesn't sound fake. Because really, he's _definitely_ going to wheedle this story out of Zuko at some point. Falling into a fountain? Classic.

"-_anyway_," Ty Lee concludes, "_Mai's calling me for lunch. Gotta go!_" She makes what sounds like a kissy noise, though Sokka can't be sure through the crackle of the poor connection. "_See you, handsome!_"

With that she hangs up, and it's clear from Zuko's eye roll that he heard the last part. Sokka smirks and elbows him playfully. "Looks like your friend _likes_ me," he teases in a sing-song voice. Damn right. Sokka's a _catch_. About time someone finally realised that.

Zuko huffs out a quick breath of air, and it's only from the crooked smile on Zuko's face that Sokka realises it was a laugh. "Not likely," he scoffs gently.

Excuse me?

Sokka's offence must show, because Zuko quickly backtracks. His hands are up, signalling surrender, gesticulating inarticulately. "Not that you're not likeable," he says quickly, and immediately goes red again.

Sokka raises his eyebrows. _Well_.

"I mean," Zuko sputters, apparently determined to dig himself into as big a hole as possible, "she has a girlfriend. Mai. So. If she did like you then... that would be... not great." Zuko clears his throat, face twisting in discomfort. _Wow_ this guy is awkward.

It's irresistibly endearing.

"Why didn't you start with that?" Sokka complains, though he can't keep the warmth out of his voice or the smile off his face. "I'm not a girlfriend-stealer. Guess she's going to just have to pine over me." He shrugs loftily, and Zuko breaks out into a relieved smile.

Zuko doesn't respond, still looking a little frazzled, and Sokka decides to benevolently grant him mercy.

The chatter in the front of the car is a comforting background hum as Sokka convinces Zuko to unlock his phone again so he can take selfies. It takes some serious persuasion - another thing he's learning about Zuko. Stubborn.

But Sokka is not going to let this newbie best him at stubbornness, so eventually Zuko concedes (again).

"You don't have Snapchat?" Sokka gasps. Does this guy have _no_ social life whatsoever?

Zuko scowls. "No," he grouches. "Ty Lee made me try it once but... I didn't use it, and it took up so much memory I just deleted it."

Sokka holds a hand to his heart. "I'm sorry for your loss," he says in his most serious tone, and Zuko raises his remaining eyebrow at him in exasperation.

God, winding Zuko up is _so_ much fun.

Eventually he settles for just the regular camera - and finds himself desperately missing his usual filters. But oh well. When they're long separated, and Zuko scrolls back through these in nostalgia, he'll have a clearer picture of exactly what Sokka looks like. Pure, unfiltered Sokka.

Sokka catches Zuko glancing over at him between the kissy face and the peace sign, and a devilish thought occurs to him. He quickly leans over, shoulder pressed firmly into Zuko's, and takes a photo before Zuko's surprise wears off enough to stop him.

Zuko looks vaguely irritated (but then, doesn't he always?) but makes no move to delete the photo, and Sokka preens. _He_ did _want a photo with me_.

Some time later, energy depleted, he looks languorously through the photos he just took - whoops, that's _way_ more than he'd thought. He scrolls through them idly, deleting the less handsome ones (not that Sokka is ever _not_ handsome) and that one where they hit a pothole and Sokka caught himself just as his head hit the window. Not the sexiest look.

He swipes to the next one, and his breath catches in his throat. It's not a particularly great photo - the angle is lopsided, and not in an aesthetic way, and it's a little blurry from the hurry in which he took it. But it is by _far_ his favorite.

The both of them.

The voice in the back of Sokka's brain declares it likes the look of them together. He quickly scolds it. No thoughts like that, please. Besides, they're probably never going to see each other again.

* * *

"Thank you _so_ much for the ride," Hakoda says to Iroh, gripping his hand in both of his own and shaking it profusely.

"Yeah, you really saved all our asses," Bato chimes in with a warm smile, clapping Iroh on the shoulder.

Iroh guffaws heartily. "It was no trouble," he insists, even though the journey had taken nearly two hours and was _definitely_ some trouble. "Enjoy yourselves at the wedding."

Bato and Hakoda exchange a _look_, and Bato shrugs. Sokka raises an eyebrow from where he's lingering by the car.

"Do you want to come?" asks Hakoda, and that voice in the back of Sokka's mind shouts _yes!_ He hushes it. "I'll tell my mother what you did for us - you'd be perfectly welcome."

Iroh responding smile is warm. "Thank you," he says, voice warm with sincerity. "But I'm afraid we must get back. Some friends of mine are visiting tomorrow, and I do not wish to leave them on the doorstep," he jokes.

Hakoda nods, his smile broad and sincere, and takes Iroh's hand again. "I understand. I hope the visit goes well."

"Sokka," Katara is saying, tapping him on the shoulder. "Come on, we're leaving." She waves at Zuko with a smile. "It was nice to meet you, Zuko."

He nods. "You too."

She wanders off, gesturing for Sokka to follow, and the rest of the family gravitates towards her as they make their way towards the large venue across the road.

"Be there in one minute," he shouts, and Katara flashes him a thumbs-up.

Zuko takes a breath, and Sokka returns his attention to him. Belatedly, he realises that this is actually the first time they've stood next to each other, and Sokka is surprised by how much taller he is. Zuko's so well-built he looks larger when sitting down, but there's actually at least two inches between them.

The way Zuko is tilting his head up to him has Sokka's head spinning.

"Well," Sokka says too loudly, clearing his throat and desperately hoping he's not blushing, "It was cool to find out you're actually not a jerk, Jerkface."

Zuko's brow furrows cutely. "Jerkface?" he echoes, looking like he's about to go off on a tirade, but before he can ruin the moment too much Sokka impulsively steps towards him and wraps his arms around him.

The body enveloped in Sokka's own freezes momentarily, before slowly relaxing, arms coming up to rest uncertainly against Sokka's back, and seriously has this guy never hugged anyone before? Well, that's definitely a problem Sokka is going to remedy.

They stay like that for an extended moment, unmoving, and time seems to slow around them as Zuko gradually melts into the hug, hands gripping Sokka's shirt to the point he worries they'll leave creases.

He doesn't mind if they do.

The impatient yell of "_Sokka!_" from across the street cuts through the moment, and then it's over - Zuko is withdrawing with a slanted smile, head dipped shyly, and Sokka feels the loss of his warmth like an icy midwinter ache.

"Bye," Zuko says, turning towards the car and getting back in. Iroh and Azula are already inside, and Sokka watches as the engine rumbles to life. The car pulls away, but not before Zuko casts one last glance out of the back window, and Sokka waves.

They turn the corner, out of sight, and Sokka drops his hand. "Bye."

* * *

"Sulking, Zuzu?"

"No," he snaps, and winces internally at the very obvious _yes_ in his voice. He crosses his arms and slouches against the window, trying not to think about that goddamn hug and the way it left him empty when they parted.

"If your paths are destined to cross again, Zuko, they will," Iroh says gently from the driver's seat.

"I know," Zuko grumbles, mostly to himself, leaning further into the window until he can feel the vibrations rattle his brain around in his skull. Maybe if he presses hard enough the vibrations will vibrate these stupid feelings right out of his brain.

Azula turns around in her seat. "Did you at least give him your number?"

Zuko's scowl deepens, and Azula laughs.

"Oh _Zuko_, you're _useless._" She turns back around, and Zuko absently watches her try to untangle her headphones, darkly hoping they'll be tangled forever. "Oh well, it's as Uncle says," she says lightly, before putting in her very quickly and efficiently (to Zuko's disappointment) detangled headphones.

He appreciates the efforts from both of them, even though it only served to depress him further. Even _Azula_ was taking pity on him. He must look an absolute mess.

_I suppose there's nothing to be done_, he thinks. _We have no way to contact each other. I don't even know his last name._

Maybe Ty Lee would be able to cheer him up. Lunch must be over now, right? He pulls out his phone with some difficulty - honestly, whoever designed skinny jeans should have made them far more elastic - and scrolls through his contacts. _Ty Lee, Ty Lee, Ty Lee..._

His breath catches in his throat.

Sandwiched between _Pizza Hut_ and _Ty Lee_ is a contact he definitely doesn't remember making.

_Sokka_ followed by a heart emoji stares up at him from the screen, and Zuko's heart nearly leaps out of his chest. _The bastard_, he thinks, trying to suppress a grin. _He must've put that there when he had my phone._

He almost calls him - and then remembers at the last second that Sokka's currently at a wedding, and Zuko's pretty sure if he interrupts the ceremony with a phone call Sokka will never want to speak to him again.

_Tomorrow_, he thinks, closing his eyes and feeling the best he's felt in a very long time.

_Tomorrow_.


End file.
